Until Tomorrow
by BitterSweetDragon
Summary: What’s the matter with Spot? He hasn’t been himself all week, has an unwanted person come back into his life... And why is Race interested? Slash! Review please?
1. bad day

Until Tomorrow Summary: What's the matter with Spot? He hasn't been himself all week, has an unwanted person come back into his life? Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Newsies, but sadly I don't. They belong to Disney. A/N: This is spur of the moment fic. I was just bitten by the plot bunny so bear with me. Also I don't feel like typing all the dialects, but you all know what accent the newsies have. This has mild slash, don't like it? Die.  
  
Chapter 1: Bad day  
  
It was a dark and stormy night and Spot found himself unable to fall back asleep. He tossed and turned but could not get comfortable. Since he was the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, he had his own room. And at the moment he was glad no one was around so see him distraught.  
  
What ailed this "Fearless Leader?" Spot was only human, he had fears, and he had secrets that he did not want the other newsies to know about. Spot had a few things up his sleeve. No one was extremely close to him. He was respected but no one's best friend. That's what was on his mind at the moment. He was lonely. Not for girls, he could get any girl or guy he wanted. All he had to do was flash "the Conlon smirk" and people would swoon. But Spot needed to tell someone what was in his bad dreams. But when someone gets to close they loose their respect. Every newsie knew who Spot Conlon was. He was the most respected newsie in all of New York. Everyone knew his name; one of the Kings of New York of the newsies. But everyone needs a best friend.  
  
"Snap out of it Conlon." Spot thought to himself. "You need to stop thinking and go to sleep. Tomorrow's another day."  
  
At eleven-twenty a man got off a train at Grand Central Station. He had been "living" in Ohio for five and a half years. The man had a plan in mind. He had an anger that had been roaring for five and a half years. He was released from the State Penitentiary a month ago. He had committed a vile crime and he had gone to jail for it. The man only came with a couple of items. He carried two suitcases, a key to his old house, and wallet filled with money. He was a respectable man six years ago, before he committed his crime. He was never rich but he held a steady job up until he went to jail. He had dreams of becoming rich. Dreams of everyone knowing his name, but the only people who knew his name were the people who were his neighbors of the nicer side of Brooklyn.  
This man's dream of everyone knowing his name only knew it for one day; when he murdered his wife. He would have gotten away with it to, if it weren't for his son. His son had run to the police and in doing so ruined his name. This man needed to find his son and make him pay like he had paid.  
The man checked into a local hotel on Elk Street, the one right where Elk street meets Duane Street. (A/N the Manhattan Newsboy's Lodging house was on Duane Street) He was tired and not in the mood to look for the idiot of a son of his. He would start looking for Benjamin tomorrow. What he needed was rest right now. Tomorrow's another day.  
  
No one in the Manhattan Lodging house slept well last night. With last night's storm none of the newsies wanted to wake up. Kloppman had grown smarter, he had heard that a storm was going to occur last week and he had bought himself a bell. He knew the sleeping patterns of the newsies well, and knew that none of them ever wanted to wake up after a storm. He had not yet used his bell and when he rang it most of the newsies shot up.  
  
"Where's the fire?" Blink asked.  
  
"Wake up boys, you got to wake up! Carry the banner! Sell your papes! WAKE UP!" Kloppman exclaimed.  
  
Within ten minutes all the newsies where dressed and were headed to Distribution Office. They had grabbed a stale piece of bread from the nuns and munched on it while waiting in line for their papes. The headline was an unusual one it read "Mayor Approves New Beer Factory Open." The news had been alright, the headlines weren't as bad as they used to be. Pulitzer had bought himself a new headline writer. He had been doing a good job at writing catchy headlines so far. As Jack Kelly walked up to Weasel he asked for 110.  
  
Racetrack was next in line, "Hey Weas, I'll take 75 papes."  
  
"Don't forget," Weasel handed Race his papes, "You owe me ten cents from the other day."  
  
"I know, I know, don't worry about it." Race took his papers and flipped through The World. There were a few stories that he could work with. The one about the Mayor could be twisted in a number of ways. There was also a story about a woman from Park Row getting sick from her husbands cooking. Racetrack smiled at that story, he could change that around too. He got up and started heading toward Brooklyn to Sheepshead (A/N- Sheepshead is actually in Brooklyn I looked it up), were he sold his papes. While he was crossing the bridge he saw Spot and walked up to him. "Hey Spot."  
  
"Hmm? Oh hey Race." Spot let out a yawn.  
  
"Didn't sleep well?" Spot shook his head, "That damn storm made us all sleep not so well too."  
  
"I never liked storms to much."  
  
"Who does? Well I gotta head to Sheepshead, I'll see ya later Spot."  
  
"See ya Race." Spot turned around and went back to selling his papes.  
  
Race's POV  
  
What the hell is up with Spot? He was acting strange. He didn't seem himself. He was lacking the air of authority that he usually had. Usually when you were even in the same room with Spot you could sense who he was, that he was important, and that he was one to be respected. Just about every newsie in New York City knew who Spot Conlon was. But jeez, what the hell was up with him today? As I entered Sheepshead I started shouting headlines and put Spot's off day in the back of my mind. I was going to tell Jack about it when I got to Manhattan for lunch.  
  
"Extra! Mayor drunk and found in alley," some people walked up to me and handed me their money, "Thank ya."  
  
"Extra! Extra! Wife coldly murdered by chef husband! Found dead with poisoned pastry! Extra!"  
  
That headline brought even more people over. By the time I had shouted out a couple more headlines all my papes were gone. I looked at my pocket watch; it was only 11:15. I walked over to the booth where you could place bets. I put some money on this horse that I'd been watching. Raider was his name, he was small but he was fast. I went to the railing to watch the race. When the gun went off my eyes were glued to Raider. Round and around the bed he went and then he started to pull ahead. He won! I smiled to myself and walked over to the booth. I gave him my ticket and he handed me a five dollar bill. I had only put fifty cents on him, but hey, extra cash. I wasn't complaining. 


	2. Bakery Confessions

Until Tomorrow Summary: What's the matter with Spot? He hasn't been himself all week, has an unwanted person come back into his life? Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Newsies, but sadly I don't. They belong to Disney. A/N: This is spur of the moment fic. I was just bitten by the plot bunny so bear with me. Also I don't feel like typing all the dialects, but you all know what accent the newsies have. This has mild slash, don't like it? Die.  
  
Chapter 2: Bakery Confessions  
  
So I started heading back to Manhattan. The crisp five dollar bill was burning a hole in my pocket. I never was able to keep money very long before spending it. I headed over to a bakery in Brooklyn that sold the best canollis. My ma used to make them all the time, I miss her. She died when I was eleven. I left that bastard of a father of mine, three years ago, when I was thirteen. Memories started flowing back into my mind. Memories that I'd rather not remember; drunken fights between my parents, black eyes, my brother leaving, my little sister oblivious to everything, me getting blamed for everything. I still worry about Marina, my little sister. Wondering how that bastard and his new wife treat her.  
  
I was two stores down when I ran into Spot, literally ran into, again. "Damnit Race, watch where ya goin.'"  
  
"Sarry Spot," He had a cigarette in his mouth and looked like he didn't sleep at all. Something was up, "What's up?"  
  
"I need another cigarette. Do ya got any on ya?"  
  
"No, I ran out last week and I'd rather stick to cigars. Spot, you rarely smoke, why are ya smokin?"  
  
He looked towards the side, he was hiding something. "Just have a weird feelin. I had a weird dream last night."  
  
"'Bout what?" We walked into the bakery, "I won't tell anyone."  
  
He looked at the different pastries and shrugged.  
  
"I have an idea, you tell me and I'll get you something here."  
  
He shot me a look and said, "I don't need anything."  
  
I heard his stomach grumble and raised an eyebrow, "Oh really now, ya gonna tell me now that ya ain't hungry. Com'on, ya stomach just grumbled. An' everyone likes bakery food."  
  
He glanced towards the cookies, "Three chocolate chip cookies and I tell you and you don't tell a soul. Deal?"  
  
"Deal." I walked up to the cash register, "Three chocolate chip cookies and one canolli."  
  
"That will be two dollars." I handed her the five and she gave me my change back. "Thank you, have a nice day."  
  
I nodded and went towards the tables that they conveniently had placed inside the bakery. We sat down and I handed Spot his cookies. "So what's the matter?"  
  
"I had a strange dream." Spot opened his bag and bit into a cookie, "It seemed real and then I couldn't get back to sleep."  
  
I took a bite out of my canolli, "What was you're dream 'bout?"  
  
"I get it every so often. I'm gonna tell you somethin' that I havn't told anyone in a long time. You spill and I soak you got it?" I nodded and he finished off his cookie. "When I was twelve, my Pa..well, he killed my Ma. I was hiding in the closet but I saw the whole thing. When he caught me there he beat the shit out of me and threatened to kill me if I ever told anyone. He almost did when the bulls showed up at our door the next day. But I keep having this dream that he's out of jail and after me. Last night, my dream was too real. I was in my room at the Lodging house and all of the sudden the door opens and there he is. We started fighting but I didn't have my cane and he was winning. Then I woke up. I fuckin' hate that bastard."  
  
I just sat there and blinked a few times. Spot's old man beat him and killed his mother? This all came as a shock. Not many newsies confessed to their pasts. They were ashamed of them, didn't want to remember them, or were still getting over them.  
  
"Sorry Race, I just needed to get that off my chest." Spot looked shaken. I don't think any of the newsies have ever seen Spot this un-Spot- like.  
  
"It's alright, sometimes things build up and the only way to get rid of them is to talk about them. I just never would have guessed that that was the reason you were bothered. I thought you were just in an off mood 'cause of a goil."  
  
Spot let out a small laugh and he smiled, "Race, you wanna know another thing about me that not many people know about?"  
  
"Shoa, what?"  
  
"I don't get distressed over goils. If I loose a goilfriend, I loose her. It's when I loose a boyfriend that I get moody. They're harder to come by."  
  
I raised my eyebrows, "You're...bi too? That's another thing I never would have expected. You never set off my gaydar (A/N: I doubt they had that word but I can't think of anything else to replace that word with) at all.  
  
Now it was Spot's turn to raise his eyebrows, "You are too? Cheese it, I never would have guessed it. 


	3. Harlem?

Until Tomorrow Chapter Three: Harlem? Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Disney does. A/N: Sorry this took so long, I was in the Drama at my high school (we just did The Crucible and I was Abby) and it's been hectic. But we're done now, so I will have more time to write. ~BitterSweetDragon  
  
The man rolled out of his hotel bed at 1 in the afternoon. He muttered to himself as he woke. It was a comfortable bed, ones that a prison cell does not offer. At the prison they were given almost paper thin mattresses with only two blankets and a pillow. Well, Jacob (the man), had his connections with certain officers and had gotten two mattresses some nights. The thoughts of the prison that he had to spend 4 and a half years in fired his mind up. He needed to find his son, Benjamin, and soon.  
  
Spot's POV  
  
I forgot how Race was. I hadn't really spoken to him since the strike but he's a funny guy. Friendly too, I was surprised I told him all that I did. I've never told anyone about my "father," if you can call him that. And then I told him about me being bisexual. I guess he was right; I did need to get things off my chest. We're now walking back to Manhattan. I hadn't seen the Manhattan newsies in a while, so I figured I owed them a visit.  
  
When I walked into Tibby's, I guess I surprised some people. Manhattan always was one of the friendlier burrows of New York. I said my hellos then headed over to Jack with Racetrack. "Jack Kelly."  
  
"Spot Conlon, how are ya?" Jack spit in his hand and we shook, "It's been a while."  
  
"I've been alright, we got a couple new kids from Harlem . Seems like Blade's givin' everybody a hard time ovah there. We got 'bout six guys from there, 'bout three youngah ones, and the rest around 15."  
  
"Harlem's pretty far from you though. Wonder why they're comin' that far."  
  
"I don't know. But both the kids and the other guys come in with bruises on their faces and," I gave Race a look, "My guys tell me that they ain't sleepin' well. Spark told me that the one kid gets this scared look on his face when Blade's mentioned. They named him Spooked."  
  
"Do ya think Blade's hurtin' them?" Race asked as he stole a chip off of Jack's plate.  
  
"Dunno. Blade is reckless and never has been too nice to his newsies. Ask Blink 'bout Blade. He used to be a Harlem newsie. HEY BLINK!" Jack yelled, "Come ovah here."  
  
"Whatcha need Jack?"  
  
"Spot has a couple of questions 'bout Blade and the Harlem newsies."  
  
"I've heard that Blade isn't the nicest leadah in New York. I got a handful of new kids from Harlem. They've came in with bruises and they ain't happy when Blade or Harlem is mentioned. Any ideas why?"  
  
Blink frowned, "Blade.well, to put it nicely, he ain't a saint. When I was there, I saw things, I heard things, been threatened by him, been punched by him, and shit like that."  
  
Race picked his head up, "What sort of stuff did ya hear an' see?"  
  
Blink shifted his weight, "Seen him soak anyone who disagreed with him, no matter what age. I've seen 'im threaten kids and I've hoid he's raped a couple of goils. He's a bastard."  
  
"What are we goin' to do 'bout this Spot?" Jack asked  
  
I thought about it. Was this worth a fight? Blade and his boys aren't a friendly group. They didn't fight fair and they were known to soak anyone who even looked at them funny. I took a deep breath, "Don't hold me to it but, maybe a fight's in order. I'll talk to my boys. Would you guys back us up? Harlem wouldn't go down easy. Remember when the Bronx took them on last year? They killed off Piper and a bunch of his boys."  
  
"I'm not making any promises Spot. But I'll talk to the guys. But if it was just my decision, I'd say, 'We're in.'" 


	4. Life Threatening

Until Tomorrow Chapter Three: Life Threatening Disclaimer: don't own this wonderful movie. Disney does. A/N:  
  
Jacob was walking toward nothing in particular when he realized that he had not even the slightest idea when Benjamin could be. Sure he was always getting into trouble, but nothing too serious. He never was too big, so Jacob doubted that he would be part of a gang. Benjamin was rather short for his age, even though Jacob himself was 6'2 and his mother was 5'10.  
  
The man just remembered something, Benjamin used to get A's in English at school. He always used to read all the time. Jacob thought to himself. A boy selling newspapers hawked a headline right next to him. He walked up the Manhattan newsie, "Excuse me but where do you get those?"  
  
"The papes?" Snipeshooter asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh, I get them at the Distribution Center near Duane Street."  
  
"Thank you, I'll take one of your papers." Snipeshooter gave him a paper and Jacob gave him a nickel, "Keep the change."  
  
"Thanks mistah."  
  
Spot's POV  
  
As soon as I left Tibby's it started to rain. I cursed to myself. Never was a fan of the rain. I was halfway to the bridge when I heard footsteps following me, so I turned around, and there was Race. I raised my eyebrow at him.  
  
"I think I can help ya with Blade." He walked up next to me and we walked together toward Brooklyn.  
  
"How? Not much is know about him, sidez the fact that he's an ass and he cheats everyone."  
  
"I used to know him when I was youngah, he lived across the hall from us and we were in the same class when we were kids."  
  
"You're from Harlem?" It didn't seem like Racetrack was the Harlem type.  
  
"Yeah." Race took out a cigar and laughed, "Forgot it was raining for a second."  
  
He seemed jumpy and I was just about to ask why, when I saw a carriage out of control coming up behind him. The horses were coming toward where he was standing, were coming as fast as a train. I grabbed him and held him out of the carriages way. It zoomed past us and it was then I realized that I still had him in my arms. I looked at him and he had this phased look on his face and all the color drained from his face, "Spot."  
  
I walked him over to the bench. The rain was still coming down pretty hard. I sat him down. He still looked really phased, "Racetrack.are ya okay?"  
  
He looked up at me, "Spot, you..you saved my life."  
  
I put my arm around his shoulder, "I jist saw those horses coming up. What was I supposed to do, let them run ya over?"  
  
Racetrack's POV  
  
I laughed and he smiled at me; I couldn't imagine him doing that. I got up and we started walking to Brooklyn again. Every so often I caught myself starting at him. I never really noticed how attractive he was before. Everyone knew he could get anyone he wanted just by smiling at them. Now I saw why. That smile could melt butter. "Hey Spot?"  
  
"Yeah Race?" A flash of beautiful mixture of blue green and gray eyes looked my way.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"No problem Race. I wouldn't have wanted ya to die before ya told me 'bout Blade." He said sarcastically.  
  
I heard a scream and I turned my head over toward the nearby alley, "Did ya hear that?"  
  
Spot nodded and ran into the alley. There we found a small boy getting beat up by an older guy. Spot got out his cane and yelled, "RANGE!"  
  
The older guy looked over towards Spot, "What the fuck do you want Conlon?"  
  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"  
  
Range stopped kicking the kid and walked over towards us. He was no small guy, he was at least six feet tall and the way his wet t-shirt clung to him, he was built. "Why do you care Conlon? It's not one of your boys."  
  
"You're right, it's not. But why are you here and why are you beating him up? Shouldn't you be shinin' Blade's shoes or something in Harlem?"  
  
"Blade's orders to beat this kid and I'm gonna tell him that you said that. So if you get an unpleasant surprise you'll know what burrow is fucking with ya." He pushed Spot to the ground and left the alley.  
  
Spot moved toward the kid. He picked the kids head up, "Are ya okay kid?"  
  
The kid whimpered and sat up. As soon as he sat up he started crying, "I messed up, Blade."  
  
Spot didn't press the kid with questions. He let the kid cry into his shoulder and he put his arm around him. He seemed so soft with the kid; I had never seen Spot this gentle. It went against his reputation. But this whole day has been against his reputation. First I find out that his father used to beat the hell out of him and that his old man killed his mother. Then I find out that he's bisexual. And now that he has a soft spot for kids.  
  
The kid stopped crying. "I'm gonna take ya to Brooklyn, away from Blade. No ones gonna hoit ya there. Ya want a piggy back ride?"  
  
The kid nodded and climbed on to Spot's back. We walked to Brooklyn in silence. When we crossed the bridge a huge streak of lightning light up the sky and I got a better look at the kid. He had a bloody nose and a black eye was forming. He looked like he was trying not to cry too. He looked at me when the next bolt of lightning came, he didn't say anything. He just looked scared and that just made memories come back.  
  
Running away from Harlem, I'm never going to go back. No one can ever make me go back. Not to that hellhole. Never going to let them near me again. Who needs family? Not me. I've got myself, no one's ever cared about me, so it's my turn to have it be about me. About me getting by in life with no bumps, about me getting what I want, about me seeing the races any day that I want. It's all about me now. Who else is there? I can take care of myself. Running out of breath, running out of.  
  
"Race?"  
  
I jumped as Spot pointed to the Brooklyn lodging house, "Oh, sorry."  
  
"Let's get this kid cleaned up, then I'll talk to my boys about Harlem." 


	5. Beds

Until Tomorrow  
  
Chapter 5: Beds  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, I just love them! Don't sue me....  
  
Author's Note: I know, I know, it's been a while...well more than a while. I'm so busy with so much stuff. Well I'm going to try and write more now. Also, the rating might go up in later chapters. Sorry for the on and off dialects. Please review?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Spot POV  
  
As we entered the Brooklyn Lodging House, I put the kid down and I looked at him fully for the first time. The kid looked better in the dark. Blood was splattered on his clothes and all over his face. Range really did a number on this kid. His blond hair was tipped red in blood as well.  
  
Race took a step toward the kid, "What's yah name?"  
  
"M...Magnet." The kid looked scared out of his mind.  
  
"Magnet, welcome to Brooklyn, you'se can stay heah as long as yah need tah. I'se Spot an' I'se the leadah heah. Dis is Racetrack. Race, go tell Rofter dat youse is heah an' Magnet's gonna stay heah for a while."  
  
"How much is it heah again?"  
  
"Three cents."  
  
"Thanks, I haven't been heah in a while." Race walked ahead and I saw him talk to Rofter, Brooklyn's version of Kloppman.  
  
"Follow me." I led him up to the second story were a couple of my newsies nodded to me. I nodded back and led Magnet into the washroom. I grabbed a stool and turned on the water. "Wash yah face. Don't use the soap yet. We wanna get the blood off first before we clean the cuts."  
  
He nodded and splashed the cold water on his face. I could tell that the water was hurting him, but he needed to get the grime off before we could get the cut disinfected. I turned the water to hot and he jumped, "What'd ya do that for?"  
  
"Cold then hot kills germs." I stated blankly.  
  
He frowned but continued to splash water on to his face, he also continued to wince. I handed him the soap, "No."  
  
"You need it. Do youse want yoah cut to get infected and turn green?" A disgusted look was thrown at me, "Then use the soap."  
  
"Lemme guess," Spark, my second in command, asked, "He's from Harlem."  
  
We walked out of Magnet's hearing range towards the steps leading up to the third floor and sat on the steps. "I found Range thrashing the hell out of him while I was walking here. The kid's washing up, but you saw him. He's covered in blood and those bruises aren't gonna heal too fast."  
  
"Range was fightin' dis kid? He's like six feet tall." His green eyes widened.  
  
"He also said that Blade had told him to do it and he said 'if Brooklyn gets an unpleasant surprise we'll know what burrows fuckin' with us.' Harlem seems pissed."  
  
"When is Harlem not pissed?"  
  
I smiled and saw Race walking toward me, "Hey Race, you know Spark?"  
  
He nodded, "Hey Spark, Rofter talked to me, he said that you guys are runnin' outa beds, you have two left an' he doesn't wanta get moah."  
  
"I dought we'se only had one left." Spark said in thought.  
  
"We have one in my room." I looked at Race, and then looked toward the washroom. It looked like Magnet had found one of his friends. "Race, stay in my room foah tonight. I don't want that kid bleeding through the top bunk."  
  
He looked somewhat surprised. "Shoah Spot."  
  
~~~~~_____~~~~~~_____~~~~~~~______~~~~~~~~~________~~~~~~~____~~  
  
The man was lost beyond belief. I've been gone too long. Where the fuck am I? Where Jacob was, was Harlem. It was pouring rain and it was colder than he remembered New York being in March. He pulled his cheap jacket tighter around him.  
  
Rain was never something Jacob liked either. He was arrested in the rain. He used to watch the rain fall down in his cell. The guards loved to take the prisoners out to run in the rain. The guards there were sadistic and cruel, but Jacob learned from and respected them. He felt that if you learned from someone, they were to be respected. He was not one to give out respect easily though. If someone didn't respect him, he would not give respect to that person. He thought children had disrespect for everyone and therefore Jacob never even thought about giving a child, even his own son, the smallest bit of respect.  
  
Women were up there with children too. He always found his wife lazy and too concerned about the way she looked. He often thought that she had committed adultery more than a couple of times. Nora O'Conner was lazy spacey drunken Irishwoman. Of course it was perfectly fine if he got drunk, but he had morals that women were not to get drunk and act how they wanted.  
  
When Nora was smashed, she was wild. She used to sing at the top of her lungs and annoy everyone in the condo. She used to dance when she was singing as well. But one thing was certain. She could dance and she could sing. She also used to hit on just about any guy when she was drunk. She wore a lot of eye makeup and dresses that exposed a bit too much. Jacob always thought of her as a whore.  
  
One night she was too drunk to even hold her glass up. A man had the decency to take her to her condo and put her in bed. He had just shut the door and turned around when Jacob had spotted him. He had punched the man down the stairs and tore into his bedroom. On the bed lay the smashed Nora lying on her back. She gasped as her husband tore into the bedroom and slapped her. This was not the first time that he had hit her. He had hit her quite often actually. But this time was the last slap she would ever get. He ran out of the room and into the kitchen. He was too blind with rage to notice his son sneak into the room when he was in there. And he did not notice Benjamin hide in the closet as he gave his wife a sharp death with a dagger.  
  
But he did see his son when he came into the room a couple hours later. Benjamin was sitting on the bed staring at his dead mother. He was sitting there unaware that he was crying and unaware that his father had entered. But he was aware when he was punched to the floor.  
  
"BENJAMIN ADRIAN CONLON!" He kicked his son in the stomach.  
  
"Pa, ma's....you..." His sentence was cut short by Jacob picking him up and slamming him into a wall.  
  
"Now listen ta me you little son of a bitch. What did you see?" Benjamin didn't open his mouth. Jacob slammed him into the wall again, "DO NOT MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF BOY!"  
  
Benjamin kept his mouth shut piecing his words carefully. But that wasn't fast enough and he was slammed again harder. He cried out in pain and was thrown to the floor. He scrambled to get to out of the room but soon was struck down by his father's leather belt. Jacob sat down on his sons back and hit him with the belt again. And again. And again. "Now you little bastard, WHAT DID YOU SEE?"  
  
"I.." Ben squirmed and was hit again.  
  
"SPEAK UP!" Jacob hit him harder with the belt.  
  
"I..I saw... some man...ma was drunk...he brought her home...on the bed...he said ta..take care of..your mother, she's drunk an'..an' den he..."  
  
"WHAT DID HE DO?" He hit him again with the belt.  
  
Ben bit back a yelp, "He..left. Den you came...an' I hoid..."  
Jacob hit him a couple of times with the belt, "YOU BETTER TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK YOU HOID!"  
  
"You'se....you....you hit her. So I...I went in...an' I hoid you...you comin' back so I...hid in the closet."  
  
"But WHAT did you SEE?" Jacob hit him again.  
  
"I SAW YOU KILL HER!" Ben started crying. Between the mental pain of seeing his mother killed and the physical pain that his father was inflicting harder and harder with his belt, he couldn't hold it in anymore. Jacob was beating him harder and harder than ever before. He wasn't wearing a shirt to begin with and the leather across his back felt like it was on fire. He could feel the cuts from the beating the other week bleeding. He was crying almost as hard as his father was beating him.  
  
Finally Jacob stopped. He kicked his son once more, "If you EVAH think of tellin' a soul 'bout this, you are DEAD. HEAR ME?"  
  
Ben nodded and drifted into the dark deep sleep of unconsciousness.  
  
The man remembered the next day. He didn't even get a trial. He was arrested just after he tried to beat the hell out of his black and blue son again.  
  
I told him that if he told I would kill him. He's going to die as soon as I get my hands on him... 


	6. The Talk

**Until Tomorrow **

**Chapter 6: The talk**

**Disclaimer**: I wish I owned Newsies, but I don't... ::sigh::

**Author's Note:** I was going to give up on this story because I didn't think it was all that good and I've had writer's block for the past couple months. But since Mydracomalfoy reviewed asking me to continue, I will. So this chapter's dedicated to you mydracomalfoy!

**Race's POV**

Spot was playing with the chain around his neck and sighed. "Spark, get all of the guys in heah."

"Shoah Spot."

We watched Spark disappear up a flight of stairs and heard him yelling for people to come down. I put my hand on Spot's shoulder, "What're ya gonna do?"

He stopped playing with his chain and looked me in the eyes, "I don't want a fight. But it's up to everyone heah. I'm thinkin' if I can tawlk dem into it, I could jist head ovah to Harlem tomorrah with you and a couple of my strongest guys. To see what Blade wants..."

"Blade's never been one to negotiate, Spot, but it's bettah than fightin' him. Even when he was young he was a good fightah."

"Harlem doesn't have any one to back them up. Well, maybe the Newark newsies...but I doubt they'd come ovah for him."

"It's not like they need anyone though...But you're Brooklyn, Spot. An' you have most of Manhattan's back."

Spot looked forward and he noticed that just about all of his newsies were pilled into the big room. He stepped on top of the chair we were sitting on and cleared his throat. "Brooklyn! We got ourselves a little problem with Harlem. Harlem's not a burrow to fuck with they're fucking with us. They're fucking with Brooklyn! Blade's got to be loosing his mind. Harlem fights unfair and hard. But I know we're stronger. But I want to avoid an all out war. I want to one of you with me. Race here already knows Harlem. Who's up for going to Harlem with me tomorrow?"

As I watched him I saw the determination and strength in his eyes. It wasn't just a fluke that Spot was Brooklyn's leader. I looked at the Brooklyn newsies, the bravest and the toughest New York had to offer. When Spot asked who wanted to come you could tell who was there for a while and who wasn't. The younger ones stepped back and the older ones stood a little taller. Then a tall, muscular guy with jet black hair, green eyes and tan skin stepped toward Spot from the crowd. "I'll do it."

Spot stepped down from the chair spit in his hand and shook his hand, "Let's do it, Tack."

He looked around to the rest of his newsies. "If tawlkin' to them doesn't help...we fight!"

His newsies cheered for their leader. Spot dragged me off a chair and put his arm around me and Tack. They cheered louder. Well until Rofter walked in. It got quiet very fast and Spot cleared his throat again, "Guy's go back to whatever you were doin'."

His newsies cleared and his arm dropped from my shoulder. He walked up to Rofter. I got to the stairs but turned around to wait for Spot.

"Mr. Rofter, I'se sarry 'bout the noise. It..."Spot was cut off by Rofter grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him close.

"'Won't happen again?' You said that last time, and the time before, and the time before that. I'm sick of you lying through your teeth to me. Next time, I won't be so kind about it." He pushed Spot on to the floor and headed back to his office.

I ran over to him, "Spot are you okay?"

He got up and brushed off his shirt, "I'm fine. Let's go upstairs."

Jacob finally gave up and got a room in a Harlem hotel. He was too tired and too lost to try and find his way back into Manhattan.


	7. Third Floor

**Until Tomorrow **

**Chapter 7: Third floor **

**Disclaimer**: Guess what I don't own? NEWSIES!

**Author's Note: **Thanks mydracomalfoy! Slashiness in this chapter!

**Spot's POV**

I brushed my shirt off again as we went up a flight of stairs. Brooklyn lodging house has three floors. The main floor is where most of us hang out or play cards. There's also a kitchen and a small dining room where we had a Christmas party last year. Just about everyone was drunk off their ass and Rofter was gone for the week to see family. Turns out he came back early on Christmas day and found not only a mess, but a bunch of newsies passed out or groaning on the floor. Instead of having any Christmas spirit whatsoever, he woke everyone up and made us clean the lodging house. On fucking Christmas! But I'm sick of Rofter...

The next floor is where the bunkroom and the washroom are. Every Brooklyn newsie sleeps there.

Except for me. The third floor was once an attic. Well it's still pretty much an attic except for one room. I led Racetrack up to my room and opened the door. He walked in and looked at me, "You have your own room?"

I smirked, "Yeah, when Red left the Brooklyn newsies he left me it."

He looked around at my room. It wasn't much. The walls were light gray; I had a window, a mirror, a bureau, a blue lamp, and one full size bed. I took off my shoes and saw Race do the same. He looked up at me from the floor, "This is nice Spot. But don't tell me you're gonna make me sleep on the floor..."

"I was actually goin' to make you sleep on the windowsill...but I think it'll be too big for you Higgins."

He attempted to glare at me and then he just let out a laugh, "Or are ya gonna have me sleep in your drawers?"

I raised an eyebrow, "I didn't know ya wanted me that badly Race."

"You wish Conlon..."

I smirked at him again. I walked forward, unloaded my pockets and took my cane off. As a joke I opened one of my drawers, when I turned around Race was taking off his vest and started to unbutton his shirt. I caught his eye and nodded my head over to the open drawer. He smirked and threw his vest at me, "I think it's too big."

I walked right up to him and looked down, "I'm sarry, I can't hear you from up heah."

He stood on his toes, "I said..."

"What?"

"I said I hope your head don't hit the door frame..."

I looked him in the eyes and I had this come back all ready but I was thrown off by his eyes.

**Racetrack's POV**

I don't think I ever really looked into Spot's eyes like I was doing now. Swirls of gray mixed in with blue. His guard was down and I saw the softer side in his eyes. When During the strike his eyes were hard and almost icy. When he spoke at the rally his eyes were lit up with dignity and pride. But now they looked easier and a bit confused, "Spot?"

He blinked and looked at the door behind me and then looked back up at me and he looked even more confused. "I..."

I kept looking at him.

"I...I should...it's getting hot in here..." He started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

I nodded it was getting hot. I took off the rest of my shirt. I just tossed my shirt over to where my vest was when I saw Spot's back. I grew up with abuse and I could tell that Spot had been through hell and back again. If Spot hadn't of told me and if I never had looked, I never would have guessed that the famous leader of Brooklyn was treated this badly. Most of the scars weren't that noticeable but there where a few that looked pretty bad. I walked up behind him and traced one of the scars with my finger. "You didn't tell me it was this bad..."

He turned around and the look in his eyes was filled with pain, "I don't like...weak...it's too...no one can know..."

I took another step toward him and hugged him. Then he sat down on the bed and I just held him. I held him until I could feel that the feeling was going away. He looked at me again. "Race..."

I looked into his eyes again and the next thing I knew his lips were pressed against mine. His lips were the softest thing to ever touch my lips. They were also like a drug. All the sudden the room got hotter and hotter and all I wanted was his lips. I kissed them over and over. His lips traveled to my neck and the room swirled. My breath was taken away by those lips. I wanted them back and those lips wandered on to mine again. He opened those lips, an invitation for my tongue to go explore. My lips also opened and both of our tongues were trying to get anywhere and everywhere, playing a game of tag in a small field. I put my hand in his hair and he moaned in my mouth. His hand wandered across my chest and I started running my fingers through his hair.

Then it stopped, Spot pulled away, "Don't tell anyone about the scars..."

"Don't worry, I won't..."

I smiled at him and he kissed me on the nose, "G'night Race."

"G'night Spot."


	8. Sleepless in Brookyln

**Until Tomorrow **

**Chapter 7: Third floor **

**Disclaimer**: Guess what I don't own? NEWSIES!

**Author's Note: ** mydracomalfoy-you rock. My writers block is still there but I'm trying to work my way around it. I just got a new computer! Woot. Suggestions are always loved...as long as you don't say "Let's kill off Race/Spot" but other than that, go ahead! Thanks for reading!!

**Spot's POV**

I watched Race drift off to sleep, thinking- I am an idiot. Those brown eyes staring at mine, those lips kissing mine, that neck of his, everything about him...and when I stop and have the chance to tell him something romantic, the first thing out of my mouth is "Don't tell anyone about the scars..." Who the fuck says that? Smooth one Conlon; you can say anything to some broad, who doesn't give a shit about you, but to Racetrack Higgins, you open your big mouth and blurt out something unromantic...Smooth.

I ran my fingers through my hair and continued staring at Race. I remember the first time I met him. I was in Harlem because Blade had wanted to talk to me about some girl that I was seeing at the time. And Blade wasn't at his lodging house yet and there was a poker game going on, so I watched it. Racetrack had just won a fair amount of money and one of the guys thought he cheated. The next thing Race knew, he was throw up against a wall and being punched at, called a lair at, and in pain. I took out my cane and tapped the guy on the shoulder and told him to leave him alone. The guy dropped him automatically. Sometimes power's a good thing. After I was done talking to Blade that night I found Racetrack outside with his stuff. He asked me where to go and I took him to Manhattan. He's stayed there ever since.

I had forgotten about Race being in Harlem earlier. Harlem...ugh...Harlem. I don't want a big brawl. But that's all going to be settled tomorrow hopefully. I ran my fingers over Race's sleeping face and sighed, "Until tomorrow..."


	9. The revengeful past

**Until Tomorrow **

**Chapter 9: **

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Newsies, I just love them! Don't sue me....

**Author's Note:** No brownies for me. I've had so much on my plate and I've been having server writer's block with this story. So if this chapter sucks, I apologize. Thanks for reviewing.

**-!-!-**

**General POV**

**-!-!-**

Spot woke up with Race in his arms. He looked toward the window to see the sun bleeding across the sky. He looked back at Race and kissed him softly on the cheek, "Race, wake up."

Race grumbled and turned over to see Spot's eyes smiling at him, "Spot it's early...five moah minutes..."

"Fifteen more minutes and the rest of the guys will be up and all the hot wadah will be gone."

Race just stared at Spot contemplating whether to move or not. Hot water or sleep, hot water or sleep.... "Fine..."

"Com'on." Spot got out of bed and headed down the stairs. A very exhausted Racetrack followed him to the washroom. About ten minutes later the two were dressed and heading out the door with Tack.

"So whyda think Harlem's fucking wid us Spot?" Tack asked while eating an apple he stole.

Spot shrugged and trudged forward. The truth was he had a slight idea why Blade was messing with him. But the incident happened during the strike.... _"...stop soaking the scabs." Spot rebutted Jack and was paying attention to him when something caught his eye. Blade, the leader of the Harlem newsies, was flirting with Sarah Jacobs. Cowboys girl. Spot could tell Blade was drunk and saw that he kept drinking during the rally. At the moment he was smashed out his mind. And he kept flirting with Sarah and she didn't look too thrilled with the fact that Blade was hitting on her. Spot answered Jack's question and got off stage when Medda came on. While Medda was singing Spot pulled Blade to the side, "What'd you think yoah doin' Blade?"_

_"I'se jistttt...havin' myself a good time Spottie..."_

_"Blade dat goil dere is Jack's goil. I don't think that ya want Jacky mad at yah foah hittin' on his goil."_

_"Conlon calm down...Jacky won't mind..."_

_"Yeah, he will. Blade ya drunk. Go home."_

_"Fuck you Conlon I ain't drunk...I'se fine..I've only had foah beersssss..."_

_"Blade ya drunk." Spot said with a little more anger in his voice._

_"Fuck you'se Conlon..." Blade pushed Spot and Spot pushed him back, causing him to fall down, "Back off."_

_The two scowled at each other and Blade pulled out a knife. He got up to his feet and charged towards Spot. Spot moved to the side and punched Blade in the arm. The punch was meant to knock the knife out of his arm but it didn't work. Blade slashed at Spot furiously but drunkenly. Spot tripped Blade to the ground and kicked the knife out of Blade's hand. He sat on top of Blade holding his arms down._

"_Listen ta me Blade. Listen good. Don't fuck wid me, or wid Kelly, or wid any of my friends goils.. You're drunk outa your mind. Go the fuck home."_

_Spot got off and Blade staggered out the door with a look of murder on his face. "I'se gonna git you back for dis Conlon. Mark my fuckin' woids I will."_


End file.
